Chapter Text
The group moves through the lower levels of Stark Industries, the heart of the company where the real nitty gritty happens. Testing labs, materials departments, and prototype storage rooms—none of it as flashy as the headlines or press releases, but vital to the company’s success.
At every stop, Flash finds a way to spin an elaborate tale, each more ridiculous than the last.
In the advanced materials lab, where engineers test new alloys, Flash leans casually against a railing, gesturing toward a shimmering sheet of metal. “Yeah, I was here with my dad when they were testing this for the first time. He let me hold a prototype. Thing weighed, like, a ton, but I lifted it no problem. Dad says I’ve got natural strength—runs in the family.”
Betty gasps, wide-eyed. “That’s so cool, Flash!”
Peter bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He exchanges a glance with MJ, who raises an eyebrow, and Ned, who shakes his head, barely holding back a snicker. That alloy isn’t even ready for practical use yet—Peter’s seen his dad muttering over it in the lab for weeks. Flash wouldn’t know the first thing about it, let alone be allowed to touch it.
In the prototype testing room, Flash doubles down. He points at a machine humming in the corner and says, “That’s part of the new suit tech my dad’s working on. He said it’s inspired by me—my athleticism and agility.”
Abe whistles, clearly impressed. “Dude, your dad’s a genius.”
Peter ducks his head, letting his bangs hide his smirk. That machine is a vibrational stress tester. Speed and agility? Not even close.
Still, none of the students seem to notice—or question—the glaring inconsistencies in Flash’s stories. But Peter notices something else: none of the employees so much as glance at Flash.
They do notice Peter, though.
Subtle smiles, hesitant waves—it’s nothing big, but enough to make Peter uneasy. He knows they’re trying to be polite without drawing attention to him, but it doesn’t help. Sara, their tour guide, seems particularly aware of this. Every so often, Peter catches her glancing at him, her brow furrowed like she’s trying to piece together a puzzle but doesn’t want to overstep.
By now, Peter’s classmates aren’t entirely buying Flash’s stories, either. They’ve started to trade skeptical glances and whispered comments, their curiosity slowly shifting from Flash’s tales to Peter’s quiet familiarity with the building and its people.
As the group rounds a corner, the hairs on the back of Peter’s neck stand on end. He doesn’t need to look up to know who’s there.
Steve and Bucky.
They’re walking side by side, Steve’s stride purposeful, Bucky’s more relaxed but no less commanding. Peter keeps his head low, muttering under his breath just loud enough for them to hear. “You’re really doing this now?”
Steve’s lips twitch. “Your dad wanted us to check in.”
“Figured we’d see how you’re holding up,” Bucky adds, his tone dry.
Peter sighs, glancing back at his classmates, who are too distracted to notice yet. “Just… keep it subtle, okay?”
“We’ll try,” Bucky smirks, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve.
The moment shatters when someone in the group whispers sharply, “Oh my God, is that…?”
The reaction is instant. Heads swivel, conversations stop, and the air buzzes with excitement.
“Holy crap, it’s Captain America,” Abe breathes, his voice filled with awe.
“And the Winter Soldier,” Betty adds, practically bouncing on her toes.
Flash goes uncharacteristically quiet, his shoulders tensing. Peter sneaks a glance at him and notes the way his confidence wavers. This isn’t part of Flash’s narrative, and it shows.
Steve and Bucky reach the group just as Sara stops in her tracks, her own excitement poorly concealed. “Wow,” she says, her voice pitched high. “Midtown Tech, this is a real treat. This is Captain America and the Winter Soldier,” she says with a gesture toward them. “We don’t see them down here often, but it looks like they’ve stopped by to say hi!”
Steve gives a polite nod. “Good to see you all,” he says warmly, his voice effortlessly commanding.
Bucky leans slightly to one side, arms crossed, his sharp gaze sweeping over the students. He doesn’t need to speak—his presence is enough to keep even the most excitable kids quiet.
Steve’s sharp blue eyes flick to Peter for a brief second—a silent check-in. “Nice to see you too, Peter,” he says smoothly, addressing him directly.
Peter stiffens slightly but recovers quickly. “You too, Mr. Rogers,” he says, keeping his tone even.
Bucky steps forward slightly, his expression neutral but his tone laced with quiet amusement. “You doing okay, kid?” he asks softly, just loud enough for Peter to hear.
Peter nods, his voice steady. “Fine. Thanks for checking.”
Sara, clearly sensing the tension but unsure what to make of it, claps her hands lightly. “Why don’t we let Captain Rogers and Mr. Barnes get back to their work? We’ve got a schedule to stick to.”
Steve nods in agreement, his smile never wavering. “Of course. Enjoy the rest of your tour.”
Bucky lingers for just a second longer, leaning slightly toward Peter as the group begins to shuffle forward. “We’ll catch up later,” he says quietly, his voice holding a hint of reassurance.
As the group moves on, Peter can feel the weight of their stares shifting again—this time, more heavily on him.
Betty tilts her head, frowning slightly. “It’s weird—they didn’t even look at you, Flash.”
Flash stammers, visibly thrown. “Uh, yeah, well, they’re trying to, uh… you know, keep me humble or something. My dad’s orders.”
“Wait, what?” Betty whispers, leaning toward Flash. “Then why did he talk to Peter ?”
Flash’s jaw works, but no words come out.
Abe chimes in, turning to Flash with a confused look. “Yeah, dude. I thought your dad was, like, best friends with them or something?”
All eyes shift to Flash, who’s still visibly thrown but scrambles to recover. “I told you guys,” he says, his voice edging on frustration. “I asked to be treated like a normal student today. That’s just their way of, y’know, messing with me. ” He forces a laugh, a little too loud to sound convincing. “Classic Avengers, right?”
Abe narrows his eyes, his skepticism growing. “That’s… weird. Why would they mess with you by ignoring you completely?”
“They weren’t ignoring me,” Flash snaps, his face turning red. “They’re just respecting my request. You guys wouldn’t understand—it’s an Avengers thing.”
Peter glances at MJ and Ned, whose shared smirks are quiet but unmistakable. MJ’s lips twitch as though she’s holding back something far sharper than laughter.
“Sure,” MJ finally says, her tone so dry it could start a fire. “Makes total sense, Flash. Captain America ignoring you is definitely because he respects you so much.”
Flash glares at her but says nothing, and the group eventually moves on.
Peter breathes a quiet sigh of relief but knows this isn’t over. His classmates are curious now, their questions lingering just beneath the surface. And worse? He knows Flash won’t let this go without trying to salvage his crumbling lie.
This field trip is starting to feel a lot longer than it should.
-
The Stark Industries food court sprawls across an entire level, offering everything from sit-down restaurants to buffets and fast-food chains. It’s sleek, modern, and buzzing with energy, the kind of place that impresses even Peter’s classmates, who are still reeling from the morning’s events.
Peter sits at the end of the table, sandwiched between Ned and MJ, picking at two slices of pizza on his plate. He’s not full—far from it—but he knows better than to draw attention by grabbing more food. Across the table, Flash is only a few seats down, quieter than usual but still trying to keep his composure.
The familiar sound of voices catches Peter’s attention before he even sees them. Natasha and Clint.
He looks up just as they enter the dining area, Natasha carrying a Tupperware container and Clint trailing behind her, grinning like he’s planning something. The spicy aroma of Natasha’s signature noodles reaches Peter before they do, making his stomach growl.
“Is that…?” Betty breathes, her fork frozen mid-air.
“Oh my God,” Abe whispers. “That’s Black Widow.”
“And Hawkeye!” someone else adds, their tone full of disbelief.
Across the table, Flash shrinks slightly in his seat, his usual bravado flickering dangerously close to extinguished.
“Flash,” MJ says dryly, smirking as she leans back in her chair. “Are they going to ignore you too?”
The table erupts in quiet laughter, and Peter catches the faint flush creeping up Flash’s neck.
Flash forces a laugh, strained but holding. “Yeah, like I said, I asked them to treat me like a normal student. This is just their way of messing with me. Avenger humor, you know?”
Peter exchanges a glance with Ned, who barely stifles a laugh, his shoulders shaking as he leans closer to Peter. “Dude, this is amazing,” Ned whispers.
Peter’s reply is cut off as Natasha and Clint reach the table. The buzz of conversation around the food court dulls, all eyes now on the two Avengers.
Sara, seated a few tables away, rushes over, her professionalism faltering slightly. “Hello! This is Midtown Tech,” she says, glancing nervously between the two. “We weren’t expecting so many Avengers in the tower today,” she adds with an excited smile. Turning to the students, she beams. “Guys, this is a real treat. We almost never see this many Avengers down here!”
Clint grins, his mischievous energy palpable, while Natasha remains poised, her sharp gaze settling on Peter.
“We’re not here to interrupt,” Natasha says smoothly, her voice commanding without effort. “Just dropping something off.”
Her eyes flick to the Tupperware in her hands before landing on Peter.
“Малыш паук, твой отец сказал, что ты недостаточно ешь, и попросил меня принести это тебе.” ( Baby spider, your dad said you weren’t eating enough and asked me to bring this down for you .)
She sets the Tupperware on the table in front of him, her tone matter-of-fact but warm in a way only Peter would recognize.
Peter’s ears burn as he feels every set of eyes at the table lock onto him. He knows he has to respond, and Natasha’s use of Russian gives him the out he needs.
“Спасибо, мама паук.” ( Thanks, Momma Spider .)
He keeps his voice steady, popping the lid open slightly. “Пахнет потрясающе.” ( This smells great. )
Natasha’s lips twitch in what might be approval, while Clint winks at him. “Good to see you all eating well,” Clint says to the class, his tone light. “Can’t have you starving on Stark’s dime, right?”
The class chuckles awkwardly, but the air is still thick with unspoken questions.
“Ешь, малыш паук,” Natasha says, patting Peter lightly on the shoulder. ( Eat up, baby spider .)
With that, she and Clint melt back into the crowd, leaving Peter surrounded by wide-eyed classmates.
No one says a word, not even Flash. Peter keeps his head down, focusing on the spicy noodles Natasha brought him, pretending not to feel the weight of every stare. The table’s tension is almost palpable, the earlier buzz of excitement replaced by a charged silence.
It doesn’t last long.
“Well,” Flash starts, clearly wanting to get ahead of the question, his voice a little too loud and strained, “since everyone’s so confused, I guess I’ll just come clean.” He leans back in his chair, throwing his arms out like this was all part of some elaborate plan. “Yeah, okay, I lied about Peter not being an intern here. But, like, come on—it’s not that big a deal.”
The words ripple through the group, followed by a sharp intake of breath from Betty.
“You lied?” she asks, her tone cutting.
“About Peter not being an intern?” Abe presses, leaning forward with narrowed eyes.
Flash raises his hands defensively. “Look, it’s not like I was trying to be a jerk or anything! Peter signed an NDA—obviously—and I didn’t want him to get in trouble by, y’know, saying too much. I was just doing him a solid by keeping things quiet.”
Peter freezes mid-bite, his fork hovering above the container. His instinct is to respond, but he swallows the urge. Better to let Flash keep digging his own grave.
“That doesn’t even make sense,” Grace says, crossing her arms. “If Peter can’t talk about it, why would you go around saying he’s lying about working here? That just makes you look shady.”
Flash’s face flushes, but he powers through, speaking faster now. “Okay, sure, maybe I could’ve handled it differently, but I didn’t think it’d blow up like this! I was just trying to make it believable so no one would ask questions. I was helping.”
“Helping?” MJ echoes, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Right. Because accusing Peter of lying totally screams ‘helpful.’”
Flash glares at her but doesn’t respond, his jaw tightening as he turns back to the group. “Look, it doesn’t matter, okay? Peter’s an intern—fine, I admit it. But he’s not doing anything, like, important here. It’s not like he’s running the place.”
Abe frowns, his gaze shifting to Peter. “Okay, but if you’re just a regular intern, why does everyone here seem to know you? Like, Natasha and Clint literally brought you food. That’s not normal.”
Peter shrugs, stabbing at his noodles as if the conversation bores him. “I dunno, maybe they’ve just seen me around enough times to remember my face. This place isn’t that big when you’re here all the time.”
Abe doesn’t look convinced, but he falls quiet.
“What about Flash?” Clark asks, his voice low but pointed. “If he’s Mr. Stark’s kid, why didn’t Natasha or Clint say anything to him? It’s like they didn’t even know who he was.”
Peter glances up just in time to see Flash flinch, his bravado slipping. His face tightens, and for a moment, Peter wonders if he’s finally out of lies.
“They’re just messing with me, okay?” Flash blurts out, forcing an awkward laugh. “I told you—they’re ignoring me on purpose because I asked them to treat me like a normal student. This is just their way of joking around.”
“Right,” MJ mutters under her breath, loud enough for Peter and Ned to hear. “Because ignoring someone is so funny.”
At the end of the table, Mr. Harrington clears his throat, finally breaking the tension. “Let’s not get too sidetracked, everyone. We still have a schedule to stick to.”
His tone is calm but firm, and Peter glances at him briefly, catching the faint flicker of unease in the teacher’s expression. He knows Mr. Harrington and Mr. Dupree are aware of the truth about his parents, but they’re under strict orders to keep it to themselves—and so far, they’ve done just that.
The table quiets down, though Betty still exchanges a wary glance with Grace and Abe. “It’s still kind of weird,” she murmurs. “Like, why go through all this trouble to hide it? If Peter’s just an intern and Flash is Mr. Stark’s kid, why is everything so… complicated?”
Peter keeps his head down, twirling a forkful of noodles to avoid their gazes. He doesn’t trust himself to speak without slipping up, not after everything that’s happened today.
Flash, meanwhile, leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he tries to salvage his dwindling control. “Look, it’s not that deep,” he says, his tone clipped. “Peter’s here because he’s an intern, and I’m here because, well, obviously my dad owns the place. If you guys can’t figure that out, I don’t know what to tell you.”
The table falls silent again, tension simmering just beneath the surface.
Peter risks a glance at MJ and Ned, who both give him subtle, knowing looks. It’s not a perfect resolution, but for now, it seems like the questions are dying down.
He exhales quietly, focusing back on his food. Flash’s web of lies is unraveling faster than he could’ve hoped, but it’s hard to feel victorious with so many suspicious eyes darting his way.
-
After lunch, Sara gathers the group, clipboard in hand and her bright smile firmly in place. “Alright, Midtown Tech, next stop: the real labs. We’ll be seeing some of the intern spaces and the marketing department.”
The announcement sparks a wave of excitement through the group. Peter, however, stays quiet, his thoughts already racing ahead. The marketing department and intern labs are familiar territory—too familiar. A few hours ago, that might’ve spelled trouble. But with Flash’s sudden pivot to claiming he was “protecting” Peter with his lies, the scrutiny had shifted. Now, the class believes Peter’s an intern—technically not a lie anymore—and that makes navigating these floors a little easier.
It’s almost funny, really. Flash’s desperate attempt to discredit Peter has backfired spectacularly. Peter doesn’t relish the chaos, but he can’t help the small flicker of satisfaction at the irony.
They step into the elevator, the glass-paneled car feeling both too spacious and too crowded as the group crams in. Sara presses the button for the upper levels, and the soft hum of conversation fills the space. Peter leans against the railing, letting the familiar pull of the elevator lull him into thought.
The marketing department has always felt like a second home to him. When his mom ran the department before becoming CEO, Peter spent countless afternoons there. He’d doodle on copy paper in her office or in conference rooms while executives hashed out ad campaigns, occasionally asking for his "expert" opinion. Even now, years later, Peter still finds himself down here sometimes, helping Pepper grab something or sitting quietly in on meetings.
His mom’s rise through Stark Industries is a point of pride for Peter. She wasn’t just Tony Stark’s assistant—she was the real boss, as Tony liked to say. She worked tirelessly to climb the ranks, eventually becoming the CEO of one of the most powerful companies in the world. But not everyone saw it that way. The tabloids had always been cruel, twisting her achievements into something ugly, something vile.
Peter’s jaw tightens at the thought of the articles claiming she’d “slept her way to the top.” They’d made his blood boil when he first stumbled across them, and the anger hasn’t dulled much since. His dad hated them too, often muttering about suing the writers for slander. But Pepper? She always brushed them off with a wave of her hand, calling the rumors “white noise from people too dumb to know their brains from their butts.”
Peter wishes he could shrug it off as easily as she does. Seeing someone so extraordinary reduced to baseless lies hurts more than he’ll ever admit. She’s their Pepper, and she deserves better.
The elevator jolts slightly, pulling him from his thoughts. He focuses on the present just in time to hear Flash’s voice cutting through the hum of chatter.
“Man, the marketing department,” Flash says, leaning against the wall like he owns the place. “I remember being up there last year with my dad. He was showing me around, talking to the team about branding for one of the new suits.”
Peter keeps his gaze fixed on the floor, his face carefully neutral. He’s gotten good at hiding his reactions. Drawing attention to himself now would only make things worse.
“They even let me sit in on a brainstorming session,” Flash continues, his voice growing more animated. “They wanted my input on how to make the designs more appealing to younger audiences. I had some great ideas.”
The lie is so absurd, so blatantly ridiculous, that Peter has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Flash’s stories are teetering on the edge of collapse, and Peter knows it’s only a matter of time before the class catches on.
“Totally,” MJ mutters under her breath, her tone thick with sarcasm.
Peter catches her eye and offers the smallest shrug, a silent agreement to let Flash keep talking himself into a corner.
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open to reveal the sleek, open-concept space of the marketing department. Sara leads the group forward, her voice bright and professional as she gestures to the wide desks, collaboration stations, and digital displays.
“Alright, Midtown Tech,” she says, stopping near a large open workspace. “We’ll start with a quick tour of the floor, then head into one of the conference rooms. One of our marketing executives will give you a mock presentation to show what it’s really like to work here.”
The group murmurs with excitement, trailing behind Sara in a loosely organized line. Peter stays near the back with Ned and MJ, keeping his head down. He’s familiar with this floor—too familiar—and while he’s confident none of the employees will say anything about his parents, he knows he can’t avoid attention entirely.
“You good?” Ned asks quietly, glancing at him with concern.
Peter nods, though his stomach is doing somersaults. “Yeah. It’s fine. I’ve been here before.”
“Clearly,” MJ says, her dry tone cutting through Peter’s nerves. “Your fan club’s probably already warming up.”
Peter rolls his eyes but doesn’t respond, letting the steady hum of the office fill the silence.
As the group moves deeper into the floor, a familiar voice calls out. “Peter? Is that you?”
Peter glances up to see Gregory Bell, one of the senior marketing executives, standing near a collaborative table. Gregory’s been with Stark Industries for years, long enough to have known Peter when he was still a kid.
“Hey, Mr. Bell,” Peter says, his voice carefully polite.
Gregory beams, striding over. “Wow, it’s been ages since I’ve seen you down here! You’ve grown so much! What brings you back to the marketing floor?”
Peter hesitates, acutely aware of his classmates’ stares. “Uh, just here with my class. Field trip stuff.”
“Ah, got it.” Gregory nods, still smiling. “Well, don’t be a stranger. We could use your approval on a few projects—always nice to have a fresh perspective.”
Peter forces a laugh, giving Gregory a small wave as the executive heads back to his desk. The silence that follows is deafening.
“How does he know you?” Betty asks, her tone sharp with curiosity. “And why does he act like you’re important or something?”
Peter shrugs, keeping his tone casual. “I’ve been here a few times. I guess he just remembers me.”
“More than a few times, apparently,” Abe mutters, earning quiet chuckles from a few classmates.
MJ tilts her head, her lips quirking into a smirk. “Why isn’t anyone saying hi to Flash?” she asks, her voice light but loaded. “I mean, surely the marketing department isn’t in on the whole ‘ignore Flash Thompson’ thing.”
Flash stiffens, his jaw tightening. “They’re not around me as much,” he says quickly, his tone clipped. “It’s not that weird.”
Peter keeps his eyes on the floor, biting back a smile. MJ leans closer, her voice low enough for only Peter and Ned to hear. “Did he just admit he’s not here enough for them to know him after saying he sits in on meetings?”
Ned snorts softly, shaking his head. “He’s really bad at this.”
The tension lingers, but Sara claps her hands, redirecting the group’s attention. “Alright, everyone, let’s head into the conference room for the presentation!”
The group shuffles forward, their murmurs fading as they file into the sleek conference room. Peter exhales, the reprieve welcome but temporary. Flash’s frustration is simmering, and Peter knows it’s only a matter of time before it boils over.
The group piles into the elevator, buzzing with chatter from the marketing presentation. Sara presses the button for the intern labs, her clipboard tucked under her arm, and Peter leans back against the wall, wedged between Ned and MJ. He’s hoping for a quiet ride, but his classmates have other plans.
“Dude,” Clark says, glancing over at Flash with a raised eyebrow, “for being Tony Stark’s kid, no one here really seems to know you.”
Flash stiffens, his forced grin faltering for just a moment before he catches himself. “I told you—they’re treating me like a normal student. My dad asked them to.”
“Yeah, but couldn’t they treat you ‘normally’ the same way they’re treating Peter?” Betty asks, her tone light but laced with growing skepticism. “I mean, they’re not ignoring him.”
Another classmate chimes in, “Yeah, like, everyone’s been all friendly with Parker. If they know him, why wouldn’t they just do the same thing with you?”
Flash’s jaw tightens, his lips pressing into a thin line as his shoulders tense. For a moment, he doesn’t even try to answer, his silence drawing more murmurs from the group.
“I dunno,” Grace says with a shrug, her voice edged with suspicion. “It’s starting to sound a little… I don’t know. Weird.”
Flash’s glare flicks to her, but he stays silent, visibly grappling with his frustration.
And then, just as the tension seems about to snap, Joe asks bluntly, “Wait—are you lying about being Tony Stark’s son?”